


Zero-Sum Game

by darkpriestess



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, in which our boys talk honestly and maturely about their mutual attraction, psych! of course they don't, where would be the fun in that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpriestess/pseuds/darkpriestess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From then on, it seemed, The Game was on and the rules were tacitly accepted and understood by both parties. There was to be no touching -at least not with hands or mouth- and whoever could tempt the other into breaking this rule would be the undisputed winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero-Sum Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mokuyoubi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/gifts).



It had all happened so quickly. One day they had been on the run, licking their wounds and thinking no further than the next bolt hole, and then, without warning, they had fallen into their latest game.

Will was fairly sure he had started this one, albeit unwittingly. They had finally reached somewhere they could stay more than a few weeks, the papers had stopped breathlessly reporting Murder Husband sightings and even Tattle Crime had regretfully moved on to more current horrors, although Freddie kept a 24 hour tip line open.

They had barely arrived at the newest safe house, a bungalow on the edge of a non descript city, when Will had walked into the bathroom to find Hannibal at the sink, about to wield a cut-throat razor with clear and vicious intent.

“What are you doing?”

Hannibal met his eyes in the mirror, clearly amused despite his exhaustion. “Shaving.” He gestured vaguely at the scruffy beard he was now sporting.  

Will swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Leave it.”

Hannibal’s gaze returned to him, appraising, all amusement gone. Will slowed his breathing and forced himself to maintain eye contact, heart racing. His fingers curled into loose fists and relaxed again, over and over as the seconds ticked by. Finally, Hannibal nodded, his eyes dark, and Will turned on his heel, fleeing to the relative safety of the kitchen.

From then on, it seemed, The Game was on and the rules were tacitly accepted and understood by both parties. There was to be no touching -at least not with hands or mouth- and whoever could tempt the other into breaking this rule would be the undisputed winner. Winner of what, Will was not sure precisely. Bragging rights? First turn in the shower on a cold morning? It didn’t matter-he had no intention of letting Hannibal win. The man was all ego as it was, and once he slipped his leash, he would be uncontrollable.

 

The following morning, Will had been completely unprepared. He had stumbled into the kitchen, bleary eyed and yearning only for coffee, to be confronted with the sight of Hannibal in  _ jeans _ , and what Will was almost sure was one of his own t-shirts, bought on a hasty trip to Walmart. The t-shirt was too tight across Hannibal’s shoulders and rode up at the base of his spine, revealing the barest patch of skin, and as for the jeans-Will hastily opened the fridge, wishing he could crawl in and not come out, at least until his face had resumed its normal colour. 

“Good morning, Will.” The bastard was smirking, Will knew it. Fine. Two could play that game, and he was not the one who had been deprived of sex for the past three years. He grabbed a bottle of water and put his game face on.

_ God _ , the jeans though. It was unfair, blatantly unfair. Will dragged his eyes away from Hannibal’s ass and leaned against the counter. “Since when do  _ you  _ own jeans?” he muttered, unscrewing the cap of the bottle. “I thought you’d be in three piece suits as soon as possible.”

“Everyone owns jeans, Will.” Hannibal explained patiently, as if to a child. “And suits would clash with the beard, don’t you think?”

Will shrugged and tipped the water down his throat, never taking his eyes off Hannibal.  _ Ah, there we go, dilated pupils, increased respiration, parted lips. You’ve got this in the bag, Graham. Assuming you stay sober and he stays out of your wardrobe. _

Will chucked the bottle into the disposal, wiping a few stray drops from his stubble. Hannibal was still staring at him, eyes narrowed.  Will raised his eyebrows innocently. “What? I was thirsty.”

“Clearly.” Again with the smirk, audible as well as visible. “Would you like a coffee, or are you sufficiently hydrated for the day?”

Will had discovered, to his horror, that he would do almost anything for one of Hannibal’s coffees, especially first thing in the morning. He tried not to sigh too ecstatically while he drank it, but if anything, that seemed to make Hannibal’s eyes go even darker. Of course, he liked it when Will struggled, be it against encephalitis-induced hallucinations or the simple pleasure of a perfect coffee.  Will suspected the coffee was getting better, if that were possible, if only so Hannibal could watch him try not to enjoy it too visibly and and then enjoy watching him fail.

 

Will pondered his next move carefully over the course of the day. On the whole, he didn’t mind this game-if Hannibal was hell bent on seducing him, he would be unlikely to be plotting more dangerous mayhem. Will dreaded Hannibal coming home and dropping a trussed up murderer into his lap, like a cat proudly presenting a dead bird to it’s horrified owner. Inevitable, perhaps, but Will hoped to forestall that argument for as long as possible. As it was, he had a constant battle on his hands trying to stop Hannibal from calling the Tattle Crime hotline. A bored Hannibal would be a dangerous proposition. The question was, could Will keep this game going for more than a few days? One of them was going to snap sooner or later.  _ It won’t be me, _ Will thought to himself, and wished he believed it.

Hannibal himself was no help, only feet away and doing laps of the pool with a smooth powerful stroke that made Will’s fingertips itch. Of course, Will didn’t have to stay where he was, but to have moved inside would have been admitting defeat and the game had barely begun. So Will read, or tried to,and he ignored the muscles of Hannibal’s back and the graceful way he moved through the water, and he particularly ignored the fact that Hannibal had abandoned his clothes altogether and was swimming naked.

Hannibal emerged from the water at last, hair sleek and droplets of water clinging to his skin. “ _ ‘The Big Sleep’ _ ” Hannibal mused, collapsing on the lounge next to Will and craning his neck to take in the book. “A highly problematic view on mental illness, not to mention epilepsy.”

“Seriously? That’s your main problem with it?” Will made eye contact as if his life depended on it, but he could feel himself blushing nonetheless. He dug his fingers into his thigh and tried to think about unsexy things, but none came to mind.

“It’s a valid critique.” Hannibal said absently, eyes trailing slowly down Will’s body. He was sprawled over the lounger, lithe and dangerous, all long limbs and predatory gaze. “Are you enjoying it?”

_ Deep breaths, Graham. Keep it together. _

“Yeah.” It came out strangled, and Will had to clear his throat. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Good.” The tension stretched out between them, endless and unrelenting. Even the birds were silent. Will didn’t dare look away. Finally, Hannibal broke eye contact and rose to his feet, stretching out a hand for Will’s empty glass. “Let me get you a refill.” 

_ “ ‘Appreso gir lo ne vedea piangendo’ ”  _ Will murmured to himself, and returned in despair to his book.

  
  
  


They still shared a bed, despite the fact that their wounds had healed and more than enough bedrooms in their new home. Will had briefly considered moving to the spare room-god only knew what Hannibal would try that night, and his own self control was rapidly slipping-but it seemed unkind and more importantly, not in the spirit of their new game. Will crawled under the covers and lay tense in the darkness, but Hannibal simply fell asleep, in that damnably easy way he had. No doubt he was pleased with his day’s accomplishments.

Will slept restlessly, in contrast, dreaming of half forgotten crime scenes and his house in Wolf Trap, swimming in blood. He drifted to the surface in the early hours, buoyed on soft touches and a tugging at his bloodstream, gentle and then more urgent, demanding. Something just out of reach, something he longed for and couldn’t have, but oh, how he wanted it. Wanted to let the darkness wrap its tendrils around him and drag him helpless and bound into the abyss. Wanted to grab the body pressed up against him and…

“Fuck!” No darkness here; watery early morning sunshine and Hannibal slowly grinding his ass against Will’s erection. Will’s hands twisted in the sheets so that he wouldn’t grab Hannibal’s hips instead. Christ, it would be so easy, just to reach out, to pull Hannibal hard against his dick, to roll him over and paint all that bare skin with the marks of his fingers and teeth. To take and take and take. To leave Hannibal wrecked and wide eyed beneath him.

And to hand Hannibal the victory, too. He would never hear the end of it. Will sighed and rested his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, willing his heart to slow.

“Good morning, Will” Hannibal purred, the sound sending a shiver through Will. “Sleep well?” He punctuated the question with a languorous arch of his back, his ass sliding tortuously against Will’s cock. A sound escaped Will before he could stop it, and his hips thrust traitorously forward of their own volition. He fisted his hands in his hair and rolled onto his back, away from temptation. Only the second morning, and he was in so much trouble already.

“Do you enjoy denying yourself the things you want, Will?” Hannibal’s voice in his ear, breath warm and tickling, hard where he was pressed up against Will’s thigh. Will squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Or do you just enjoy denying me?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.” Will’s voice was breathier than he would have liked, a note of neediness in it. He shook his head and chuckled.

“What amuses you?”

“You. Me. Us. We’re ridiculous, Hannibal.”

“Love is frequently ridiculous.” Hannibal agreed. He propped himself up on an elbow, eyes raking over Will, mussed and panting and hanging on to his self control by his fingernails. Hannibal’s nostrils flared and Will knew he could smell him, smell his arousal, and that should be creepy, but instead he felt heat rush through him at the thought. Will shut his eyes again and gripped the sheets more firmly.

“What about you, though? You’re denying yourself too.” Will said, forcing his eyes open. “I’m here. In your bed.” His breath hitched as he watched Hannibal’s eyes darken. Will took a deep breath and writhed at the contact of the covers on his cock. “You could take what you want.”

_ Touch me, please, please.  _ Hannibal’s breathing quickened and for a moment Will thought he had him, that Hannibal would reach out with hands and mouth and _ -God _ -Will arched his back involuntarily, watched as Hannibal’s breath caught. He licked his lips and stared at Will’s mouth, hungry, so close, so close. Will bit his lip hard, tasting blood.

“ _ Will… _ ” Hannibal sounded ruined already and it was all the encouragement Will needed to slide his hands under the covers and take a grip on himself, gasping at the sensation. He needed to come so badly it felt like a physical pain, and if Hannibal wouldn’t lend a hand, he would just have to take care of things on his own.

“Go on then ” Hannibal’s lips were back near Will’ ear, voice low and rough, sending shockwaves licking up his spine. “Show me.” Their legs were entangled-when had that happened? Hannibal’s leg was slung over Will’s thigh, pinning him down as he rocked up into his hand. Will tilted his head back, letting Hannibal have this, letting him watch as Will took his pleasure. It was that same sensation as he’d had in their therapy sessions, at once feeling completely safe and utterly exposed, all his secrets laid bare and offered up willingly. 

Hannibal was moving against him, a slow roll of his hips and his mouth was hovering over Will’s throat, not touching, not yet, but Will could feel Hannibal’s breath hot against his skin. He turned his head, seeking, their mouths millimetres apart

Will picked up his speed, rough, too much friction but too good to stop and pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s. “Please.” he breathed into the space between their mouths, a choked off sound that shocked him. Will’s toes curled and he could feel the pressure creeping inexorably up his spine. Their lips brushed, once, twice, turning into a wet open-mouthed kiss that tasted of blood and of victory and defeat all at once and then the wave crashed over them both and Hannibal was swallowing the small, helpless noises Will made as he shattered and shook and floated back down to earth, wrung out and boneless.

They lay in the wreckage of the bed, breaths ragged and Hannibal’s hands were roaming sure and easy across Will’s body, given permission at last.  _ Five years _ , Will thought to himself, fingers twisted in Hannibal’s hair as he crawled down Will’s body, evidently intent on making up for lost time.  _ Five years of blood and murder and manipulation and it all comes down to a game of chicken. Bedelia would have a field day. _

“Jesus  _ fuck _ , Hannibal” Will squirmed away from Hannibal’s tongue as it licked a stripe across his softening cock. “Give me ten minutes.” Hannibal growled and sunk his teeth into the meat of Will’s thigh, making him cry out with the sudden pain of it. A different intensity, if no less theirs. Will writhed and twisted, not sure if he was trying to get away or not and Hannibal obligingly removed his teeth from Will’s flesh, tracing the bite mark admiringly.

“You’ve got five” Hannibal said smugly, looking altogether too pleased with himself. Will was going to have to remedy that, and quickly. “In the meantime…” Hannibal draped himself over Will and lavished a series of long slow kisses on his mouth. “Let me make you a coffee. Let me watch you try to drink it without making any of those lovely appreciative noises. And then we will celebrate our victory.”

“I don’t make noises.” And again with the blushing. 

“You do.”

Will somehow resisted the obvious schoolyard reply. One of them had to be an adult, after all. “Fine. Make me coffee. Watch me...make noises or whatever the hell floats your boat.  Just get your ass back here quickly. I’m not done with you.”

“As you wish,  _ caro _ . ” Hannibal stole one final lingering kiss and then slid off the bed with far too much energy for a man his age. Will watched him go, admiring the view. Something was nagging at him though, something Hannibal had said...

“Hang on,  _ our  _ victory?” Will shouted at the door but Hannibal was already gone.  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> _"Appreso gir lo ne vedea piangendo."_
> 
>  
> 
> "Weeping, I saw him then depart from me." Dante (who else?)


End file.
